


My Prince

by HarmoniaChimera



Series: River of Mists [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Half-orc, Heavy Drinking, Meduc, Painful Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Royalty, Self-Doubt, mention of genital mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniaChimera/pseuds/HarmoniaChimera
Summary: And this time, he interrupted her, grabbing her hand and pulling insistently until she looked him in the eye. “Lyeiess. My name is Lyeiess. I beg you, Raila, just this time, when I’m alone with you, I’d like to forget about being a prince, ruling this town, the court, about this whole damn life. For this one night, let me only be the boy who spent years sowing wheat and scything grass for hay. That’s all I ask. Can you do that for me?“I don’t mean to force you to anything with it. I don’t mean to bind you with it like a vow, or any other way, while we’re at it. I don’t require anything from you nor do I expect it. It’s but a request, one that truly means a lot. For years, I haven’t felt as unencumbered and ordinary as I feel with you tonight.  That’s what I would like you to be to me,—a haven wherein to hide away from it all. That surgery, that pragmatic, dismissive attitude you regarded me with, it opened my eyes. I love you, Raila, as my dearest friend.”
Relationships: Lyeiess/Raila
Series: River of Mists [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610662
Kudos: 1





	My Prince

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t supposed to write this pairing because canonically Lyeiess and Raila love each other with heated, unconsummated emotion, yadda, yadda, yadda… but I couldn’t resist the temptation. [Previous story in the River of Mists series](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22375585) contains char descriptions in notes if needed.
> 
> Special thanks to @[DreamingStoriesInOurSleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingStoriesInOurSleep) for the beta'ing and spellchecking!

The sun had long sunk behind the horizon when Lady Surgery barely began thinking of going to bed. Raising her heavy head up from the equally heavy tome containing all the knowledge she had acquired during the many years of her medical practice, she looked tiredly at the flickering candles… It _was_ considerably easier to work in the daylight, but with the life she led, only in the evening had she time to fill in her records; between patients, tests, research, the prince all up in her—

“Raila?” Lyeiess’s voice accompanied the soft creak of the opening door. “Are you asleep?”

She didn’t even try to keep her eyes from rolling as she turned in the chair to face the prince. He was standing at the entrance holding a not-even-remotely-small bottle which contained something that could only be described as stable-brewed moonshine the colour of a rotting, blackened spleen. Lady Surgery cringed.

“What are you doing here so late, my prince?” she asked, wrapping herself tighter in her overdress so as not to scandalise her sovereign with her night gown.

“To be perfectly honest, my dear, I stood at your chambers for the past hour but wasn’t sure if you weren’t in bed already.”

“And… that’s why you were standing in the hall and listening in, my lord?” There was laughter underlining her voice; Lyeiess, impatient, set the bottle he’d been holding on the nearest free surface. Raila glanced at it, then shifted her perplexed gaze back to the prince.

“This is the reason,” he said calmly. “The most recent gift from the centaurs, and, as I imagine, the last for some time.”

“What is it?” Raila raised the bottle to her eyes, studying its contents. The liquid was slightly cloudy and purple, yet so dark it verged on black. When she uncorked it, she quickly learnt it smelt no better than it looked.

“I would like to know as well,” Lyeiess shrugged. “It seems to be a sort of liquor of theirs. I wanted to ‘study’ it with you; if it turns out to be harmful, you’ll know what to do. And, I imagine, it shall be less dangerous for you than an ordinary human like me. With your family history.”

Lady Surgery squinted at him but quickly stopped seeking insult in the words. Lyeiess gave her an ostentatious sigh of relief. Then, two silver goblets were retrieved as well as a bowl of fresh kuss fruits.

“You do realise, my dear prince, you shall likely pass out before I so much as feel a buzz?” Raila said dismissively, pouring the centaur wine as they sat themselves at the low table that was, until now, a showcase for her specimen jars. Lyeiess could swear Raila wiped traces of some suspicious fluid off of it before throwing a few embroidered pillows on the floor and motioning him to sit.

It was by far the worst taste either of them had ever had in their mouth and quite possibly worse than anything either of them ever _was_ to have there. It was a little like honeyed semen, in the way that it stuck to the palate, all gooey and bitter; one just couldn’t get it down fast enough and burnt the throat far longer than any laws allowed. One sip reminded Raila of a full glass of boiling disinfectant and similarly made one awfully sick—she barely kept her supper down. The prince was not so lucky; he went pale and gratefully accepted a bowl she offered, into which he then vomited in a desperate, extensive, and extraordinarily disgusting manner.

“Arghh…” he wheezed at the end and sat up straight, wiping tears from his cheeks. “It is positively _vile_. Brilliant. Pour me more.”

The second round went down easier for Raila—she could even discern individual tastes. There was a hint of anise behind the disinfectant; and that was enough for her to almost accompany Lyeiess over the bowl. One could also recognise some hidden wild strawberries or maybe a peculiar type of centaur berries underneath, not that it helped much. Still, she managed to gulp down the second goblet, and then a third and a fourth, all while the prince happily regorged his guts out.

Raila had only once heard the tiny bell of her automated hourglass when she first felt the brew’s effects. She had to admit the centaurs’ wine was as strong as it was repugnant.

Lyeiess was now stuck in a state which, after the several years she had been in his service, Raila learnt to recognise as a prelude to the more dangerous, yet also much more amusing mood. Because Lyeiess didn’t get drunk like a normal person; there were four stages to his inebriation, and during none of them did he exhibit any slurred speech, nor balance deficits, nor even dulled senses. First, he would become fragile like petals of a dead rose. He’d be trying to make everybody happy, afraid to hurt anyone, and constantly asking if everything was fine— _ad nauseam_. She would be actively sick of it, had she not sacrificed her stomach contents to the wine before.

Then the prince entered the phase of depression with elements of attention seeking, which he firmly fostered now. He was admittedly less annoying than just a moment ago, but only ever so slightly, and Raila had the time to prepare herself only partially for the inevitable series of pleading questions. This would then most likely lead to the third stage of the princely libations in which he would fall into a perfectly controlled rage, make a cartload of stupid decisions, challenge a few people to a duel, and probably kill most of them, until he’d finally burn out and collapse senseless; only to regret it all a hundredfold the next day. Therefore, Raila cautiously swiped the rest of the wine off the table and poured it, along with the reeking, sploshing contents of the bowl, down the refusewer. Then she started boiling water for tea over her half-open fireplace while Lyeiess sunk deeper into the sea of despair and regrets.

“Raila?” Oh. It had finally begun. “Am I bad person?”

She froze. His voice, not wallowing as usual but instead sincerely fearful, reached her on an entirely different level; some part of her trembled. He wasn’t pitying himself, nor regretting his decisions for the umpteenth time, he wasn’t expecting sympathy or comfort. This time he was genuinely afraid he had become something else than he meant to somewhere along the way.

Raila turned to look at him. He was perched against the wall in a thoroughly graceless manner, combing through his fair hair with one hand and wiping the tears from his face with the other. He looked up at her, silently begging for help. A miserable sight.

“My prince…” She wanted to approach him, but he shook his head.

“I don’t want to be a prince,” he growled, his voice breaking on the last word. She returned to her small cauldron and after a while of consideration, added some valerian root powder, for the nerves. She watched Lyeiess over her shoulder until she caught herself staring at the outline of his chest underneath his shirt and analysing all the ways in which the lines of his neck turned into the sharp edge of his jaw when he worked it. She took a deeper breath as she felt a surge of heat and, convincing herself it was just a blow of steam from the cauldron, forced herself to turn away. What was happening to her? The fourth year was passing since she had first set foot upon the Iaonian soil, but this had never happened before. The prince was handsome, of course, and it was difficult not to appreciate that even for her, but the feeling has never been quite so strong or… importunate.

Lyeiess—even in this sorry state—noticed a change in Raila’s demeanour. Whether it was her reddened cheeks or the gaze she graced him with, the prince had to do a double take—did she just… shiver? Slowly, the circumstances they found themselves under reached his addled mind: the heat of the fireplace, the air heavy with aromatic steam, he, half sitting, half lying there in disarray, and Raila’s night gown suddenly so very well-fitting. His heart beat faster at the very thought of what could happen here; they had regarded each other with a certain dose of familiarity for a long time now, even if not _that_ kind of familiarity. But… no. Not with Raila. He couldn’t do that to her.

A tin cup with some sort of herbal infusion suddenly appeared in front of him, jerking him out of his thoughts. Raila, still a little flustered, was standing over him and nearly pushing the cup up his nose. He gave in then and drank the whole thing in one go—and instantly regretted it. The tea was so hot he went into a coughing fit, but also so tasty he would have preferred to savour it longer. Raila shook her head in resignation as soon as he looked up at her to ask for a second serving.

“No,” she only said curtly. Lyeiess couldn’t tell if she just didn’t feel like making another infusion, or if he’d just drunk something that should not be overdosed.

Raila sat across from him and watched him in silence. Lyeiess attempted to focus his gaze on her face but it wasn’t going very well, so he eventually just closed his eyes altogether. He then tried to remember what they’d been talking about earlier; and when he finally did, it hit him his previous self-loathing had been pushed under the surface. He could just _feel_ the unnatural calm Raila’s tea had inflicted upon him. And he wasn’t exactly sure if he liked it or not.

“How do you feel?” she asked, having apparently read something off of his frown or maybe seen the look in his eyes. He didn’t reply straight away. “My prince?”

“Stop,” he muttered, getting angrier; he knew that alone answered her question. “We’re in your chambers, the door is locked. No one can hear us in here. You can call me by my name.”

Raila was silent as he watched the emotions pass across her face one by one: confusion, uncertainty, unease. It didn’t surprise him. To that day, she had never dared speak to him so directly, except that one time they’d talked during her surgery and she’d been too focused on her patient’s well-being to concern herself with etiquette. Even if for her, it was about a bit more than just etiquette.

Back then, it’d slipped her tongue more than once, and Lyeiess was led to believe that in her mind, she was already there. But Raila wasn’t so simple. Afterwards, she had visited him only to apologise—she’d said she shouldn’t have familiarised herself with him so, that she didn’t want him to think it was any sort of invitation on her part; and then left before he could explain to her that nothing less than, “Yes, take me” was an invation to him. She’d had that rare expression back then, as though a glimpse from within, of the personality she usually kept hidden behind her substantial knowledge and unwavering confidence of an experienced surgeon: the expression of a hurt little girl. The same expression which had appeared long, long before, just for a split second, when he tried to seduce her for the first time and she couldn’t not refuse him. The same expression he was looking at now.

“And you have nothing to be afraid of,” he added then. “You’re safe with me. I would never do anything you wouldn’t want.”

His words didn’t seem to bring Raila any reassurance. Lyeiess sighed. It was stronger than her, he knew it; but in all those four years she’d been working for him, he never gave her a reason to believe he wished to see her harmed. Wasn’t it about time she trusted him?, he thought annoyed, but he was so calm after her damned tea, he couldn’t even get properly angry, and that annoyed him even more.

“Raila, have I ever treated you poorly?” he began, meaning to remind her of all the times he had exhibited gentility, support, and sympathy for her—in that order—but she was shaking her head before he’d even gotten to the next sentence, her gaze turned to the floor.

“The problem does not lie with you, my prince.”

And this time, he interrupted her, grabbing her hand and pulling insistently until she looked him in the eye. “Lyeiess. My name is Lyeiess. I beg you, Raila, just this time, when I’m alone with you, I’d like to forget about being a prince, ruling this town, the court, about this whole damn life. For this one night, let me only be the boy who spent years sowing wheat and scything grass for hay. That’s all I ask. Can you do that for me?”

The longer he spoke, the more miserable Raila looked. He could see she wanted to but almost couldn’t open her lips and speak his name, petrified by the depths of her irrational fear of the imagined consequences. And the understanding of how much it meant to him only seemed to deepen her feeling of helplessness.

“I don’t mean to force you to anything with it. I don’t mean to bind you with it like a vow, or any other way, while we’re at it. I don’t require anything from you nor do I expect it. It’s but a request, one that truly means a lot. For years, I haven’t felt as unencumbered and ordinary as I feel with you tonight. That’s what I would like you to be to me—a haven wherein to hide away from it all. That surgery, that pragmatic, dismissive attitude you regarded me with, it opened my eyes. I love you, Raila, as my dearest friend.”

For the longest while, Raila didn’t say anything. Slipping her chin out from between his fingers, she only stared at the floor, her lap, the hem of her tunic, her eyes jumping from one object to another—anything not to look his way. Until finally, her body shook with something resembling a sob, but no sound escaped her lips; and then, with a deep breath, she calmed down, looking more like a lost doe than the daughter of one of the most powerful Orcish Shaman-Women—until she raised her head and met his gaze.

Next thing he knew, she pushed him backwards onto the pillows and rolled her night gown up to climb onto his lap. She was suddenly so close he had to stifle the instinct to pull back; he couldn’t focus his eyes on any point of her body, his whole world permeated by her overwhelming scent. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek when she leant in and whispered in his ear, “Could you love me in a different way tonight?”

There weren’t enough words to describe his shock, never mind enough air. A shiver, a harbinger of other reactions, went through his body; Raila could very well have been grinding against him and it wouldn’t make a difference in impact. When she only straddled him like that, one arm around his shoulders, the other on his chest—that was enough for him to be in a muddle.

Of course, he couldn’t say he didn’t want it—Raila was dear to him and if she wished it, he wouldn’t refuse her. Lyeiess had an innate ability to see beauty in every woman: no matter how minute, he would find it and drag it to the fore, paying no mind to any superficial imperfections along the way. And so every woman was attractive to him, and Raila was no exception. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how defensive she’d been against any closeness; and ever more, he couldn’t understand what brought on this sudden change and what he should do with it. Perhaps it was just the influence of that bloody wine—and if it was, he had no right to take advantage of it, no matter how she insisted—but she seemed perfectly sober, just like she was always. Except for that tiny detail wherein she had her bare thighs tightly wrapped around his hips and he could feel her breath on his neck getting hotter, it seemed, with each passing moment.

Or maybe she needed to feel close to someone after he’d reminded her of her woes, and this was the only way she knew how to ask for it. Perhaps she wanted to prove she trusted him, comfort him—which he didn’t require, and definitely not like this. Under no circumstance did he want to hurt her, not to make love to her only to see her regret it later. If only he could be certain she had overcome whatever fear she’d had and truly wished to go down this road with him.

Although, maybe she just felt a sudden urge and he just happened to be the closest person around. He wouldn’t mind that one bit. He would let her use him in every way imaginable, and _un_ imaginable, if she sincerely craved it. In fact, he _hoped_ that was exactly what she wanted. But hope was not certainty.

“Raila…” he said softly, only his voice conveying his concerns. She raised her head from above his shoulder to look him in the eye: her brows were knit, gaze not certain at all, but almost… pleading? As though she were asking him to take care of her instead of forcing her to say it aloud. It ached him that he couldn’t do that.

He didn’t really know what had happened to her to make her like this. She’d never told him and he hadn’t felt entitled to ask. She clearly didn’t want ‘an excess of his attention’, as she once described it, and that was more than enough; but he suspected the worst. He didn’t want to hurt her even more.

“You don’t have to worry, my prince,” she said softly but calmly, though he could feel her trembling a little. He put his arm around her without thinking, even though just a moment ago he didn’t want to cut off her escape route in case she changed her mind. “I am afraid, but I trust you and I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Don’t do it for my sake, Raila,” Lyeiess groaned, though there was something stuck in his throat. “Do you really want this? You, yourself?”

“Yes,” Raila replied with much more confidence before leaning in to his ear again. Lyeiess didn’t even try to stop the shiver that snaked down his back when he felt her smile against his cheek as she said, “Take me, my prince.”

Lyeiess’s fingers tightened on her side; all hesitation was gone. Raila twitched when she surely felt his excitement, but only clung closer to his chest. His other hand crawled up her thigh, rolling up her tunic until all of her body was bared. He let his lips wander around her breasts as she took her gown off, trying, and failing, to stifle her moans.

He revelled in the the taste of her nipples, in the pain following her nails as they split open his back, in her scent, and her closeness. He finally allowed himself to get lost in how her skin gave in under his fingers, and in the quiet, desperate sounds which escaped her lips as he caressed her waist, hips, and thighs; he allowed himself to forget about his duties and the town’s problems. And he had every intention to take her just like she wanted it and give her the pleasure she desired. About time.

Grabbing her firmly by the waist, he laid her backwards on the pillows, propping himself up on his elbow. She looked away, red flushing her cheeks, but he pressed on her chin until she looked back at him. He brushed away a lock of hair, unveiling her empty, collapsed eye socket, and stared into it for a while. Then he finally, long overdue, leant in to taste her lips—and she hungrily raised to meet him, holding on to him by the back of his neck like she was afraid he was going to escape. Their tongues entwined; between one hot breath and another, Lyeiess pulled away against her protests to sit on his heels; and, undoing his shirt, he glanced at her body. Her breasts were small but shapely, perfectly befitting the deep, very Orcish waistline which smoothly turned into prominent hips. When she arched her back to place herself more comfortably, her pelvic wings popped out, and Lyeiess had to admit they only excited him more. He peeled his shirt off, and, moving his hands up her thighs and higher, lay back on top of her as she pulled him closer and closer. He kissed her lips, then her neck; Raila’s breasts slapped against his skin when she arched and writhed in pleasure, and a long moan escaped her throat. Lyeiess’s pleased smile was lost in her neck when he bit down on her shoulder. Then, he slipped lower—and lower still, down to her womb, until he finally raised her hips to taste her body’s response to his caress.

She gasped—and covered her mouth with her hands so as not to scream as he slipped his tongue inside. The aroma of her body mixed with the smell of herbs hung out to dry in the chamber; her petals welcomed him so he explored deeper and hungrier with each passing moment until Raila couldn’t stop herself anymore and cried out in pleasure, weaving her fingers into his hair, pushing him away one second and pulling him closer the next. Lyeiess allowed his hands to wander around her body, but he was far from finished. He pulled up slightly to reach her point of pleasure… but he didn’t find it.

For a short, very short moment he internally cursed his own ineptitude, but eventually, he did realise he couldn’t have suddenly forgotten where to find this little key to bringing a woman to the brink of madness. And then he realised what that meant.

He looked up at Raila but she was avoiding his gaze; there were tears in her eyes. Lyeiess found her hand with his and squeezed gently but there was no reaction, so he slipped out from between her legs to lie next to her. She latches on to his arms, afraid that he was about to leave, and finally dared look him in the eye. She inhaled deeply.

“The Orcish women do it to be more of a challenge,” she began, but Lyeiess stopped her with a gesture.

“I know,” he only said. To his surprise, it came out very angry. Raila had to know that wasn’t an explanation to him.

“Maybe I’m not an orc myself, but I was born among them. For my mother and grandmother, it was a religious duty, really.”

“Don’t Orcish women do it of their own volition, though? Did they not give you a choice?”

She shook her head. “My mother waited, of course, until I was old enough, but she never saw a world where I might not agree or simply not want it. After I ran away, she wasn’t going to let me bring her any more dishonour, so—”

Lyeiess sealed her lips with a kiss. “That’s a conversation for a different night,” he said softly and she looke up at him puzzled. “At the moment, I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

And he reached down; Raila tried to stop him, but he grabbed her wrist with the other hand. Her head fell limply back into the crook of his elbow, and a moan escaped her lips when Lyeiess put his fingers inside, paying almost no mind to her weak protests. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked softly.

“My prince…” she whispered, and when he rolled his eyes, she nearly cried. “Please, but for a moment…”

So he gave her a brief reprieve and focused his gaze on her, though already a tad blurry due to the growing excitement. “Yes?” he pressed shamelessly, though she could barely catch her breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered between gasps. “But you don’t have to do this, my prince. I will understand if you don’t desire me in this state…”

“Ah, yes, I don’t desire you oh, so much I can barely stop my fingers; oh, woe me, what shall I do _now_?” he teased as sarcastically as he possibly could, and for emphasis, moved his hand, drawing a desperate moan from her lips. “I do not doubt you have been hurt, and I appreciate you opening up to me. But I don’t intend to give up because of such a small obstacle.”

“It’s not small,” she growled at him, but only half serious. He grinned.

“Fortunately for you, my dear Raila, I like me a challenge.”

And so he returned to pleasuring her by any means necessary, successfully keeping any further discussion at bay. Whatever else she may have wanted to add was quickly turned into a stifled cry breaking out of her throat and extending into a whole chain of them. Lyeiess turned back to her neck as well, lips dancing on her skin, teeth gently nipping, until Raila writhed erratically and pushed her face into him so that his chest would muffle her final cry.

“Oh, but no need to stop yourself,” he said to that, watching with some amusement how her cheeks reddened and her own chest heaved in deep breaths, and how her lips moved silently as she tried to answer him. Her blush only deepened when he slowly licked her wetness off of his fingers, staring her right in the eye. He gave a soft chuckle and kissed her forehead, and she slapped him across the arm, still not entirely capable of coming up with one of her snarky comebacks.

“Satisfied?” he asked. Raila nodded even though she had to know he needed no affirmation. He slipped off of her and grabbed his shirt.

“What… My prince? Why are you leaving?” She sat up, looking at him in surprise, barely in control of her own breathing.

“The time has come for me,” he said calmly. “If I were to torture you like this any longer, I fear you might explode like a smart goblin in his workshop. And so we must be finished for today.” He was just about to slip his shirt back on when he felt her hand on his breeches. He looked at her with surprise. Her cheeks were as red as Clerothverian strawberries, but her gaze was determined.

“If you truly believe I am going to let you walk out of here in such a state, you must not know me very well after all,” she said softly. “My very position requires me to care for your health.”

Lyeiess suddenly couldn’t take his eyes off of her naked form kneeling on the pillows at his feet. “Please say nothing of positions… And I can care for it myself, you don’t have—” But she was already undoing the fastenings with the proficiency of a surgeon. “Rai— Damn you, wom-ahh…”

Her lips were so soft and her tongue so warm Lyeiess was afraid to lose control of himself. Not even trying to stop a moan that demanded to be let out, he took a step back; but he only encountered a wall and Raila moved closer to take him in her mouth again. She couldn’t be a virgin, he caught himself thinking as she showed off her skill, her tongue fast and yet so, so thorough. Lyeiess didn’t want to allow himself to, but he finally gave in to the overwhelming sensations—not entirely of his own volition he grabbed Raila by the hair and thrust himself into her mouth as far as he could. He could feel her hands on his hips as though through a mist, and when he finally let go of her, Raila barely stopped a stream of spit from falling to the pillows; she gagged and tears appeared in her eye, but Lyeiess couldn’t bring himself to care. He raised her in his arms and carried her to the bed; he expected a protest, but Raila had already surrendered herself to him completely. If anything, it only inflamed him more.

Placing her legs on his shoulders, he kissed them hungrily from the ankles down, until he reached her sex; she gasped when she felt his tongue exploring her erratically, wildly even, leaving no place without paying it the appropriate amount of attention. It didn’t even ignore the one which demanded none—and Raila discovered, astounded, that if he did it so fiercely, she _could_ draw pleasure, one she had never experienced before.

Then Lyeiess raised his head to look at her—his lips shone with her wetness in the candlelight. His fingers set to work as though on their own and brushed against her gently and wholly casually, though every touch sent waves of shivers up her spine.

Raila, even with it being the first time that the prince had ever lost control with her, still felt safe. However aggressive or greedy he’d get, there was not a single thought in her mind worried he was going to hurt her; and now, as he stared up at her with that primal hunger in his eyes, she was downright happy he’d finally seen a woman in her.

Gods, how soft she had become.

Lyeiess, having paid appropriate attention to her bosom, climbed higher and higher, trailing gentle kisses up her neck until he reached her lips and latched on to them, nearly cutting off her air supply. And then he cut it off completely as his hand closed tightly around her throat—and Raila was surprised to learn she enjoyed that immensely—and with the other, he began pleasuring himself while he slipped in between her open legs. She watched a range of expression s dance on his face: his eyes focused on hers and only briefly jumping away to take in the rest of her exposed body; his lips parting slightly with each stroke he was giving himself; the way his brow furrowed as he threw his hips out to her, almost pleadingly so, with each wave of pleasure crashing into him. She couldn’t take it anymore. Stifled moans and quiet squeals escaped her lips as she wordlessly begged him to finally take her, fiercely and hungrily, and fully, and mercileslly; to give her that which she had desired for so long but only after he’d showed her what he could make her _feel_ , she had allowed herself to see it. For a long moment, Lyeiess only watched her squirm, her own hips rocking as far as his grip on her neck would allow, half-open eyelids trembling in pleasure.

But eventually his maltreated conscience must have spoken up as he graciously placed himself above her and Raila felt a sudden rush of heat; heat she had not felt in so long it seemed impossible. Her heart flailed wildly in her chest, with excitement _and_ fear. It almost seemed like she was about to be opened anew, for the second time; and until now she’d have never thought it could be so terrifying. And then he smoothly slid inside her and she immediately stopped thinking altogether.

It didn’t hurt at all, to her astonishment; her eyes and lips wide open in a gasp of pleasure, time seemed to have stopped, hooked on that feeling of fullness and bliss. But then the prince began moving and small jabs of pain spoke up here and there, as though her body just _had_ to remind her that nothing good ever lasts. But Lyeiess was being so thorough and trying so hard she did everything in her power not to show it—but eventually, by accident and completely against her will, she hissed softly. He stopped.

“Is everything all right?” he asked in a sincerely concerned voice, albeit barely holding back his gasping breaths. Raila was so focused on her own sensations she was only now noticing that Lyeiess had long lost himself in his own pleasure. She could imagine how it must have felt for him, sliding rhythmically into her warm, tight folds, and how much effort it had to take for him to stop even for this little while, and she nearly cried again. He had been so good to her, since always, and she couldn’t even pay him back properly. And when she realised he would never expect anything from her in return for anything he’d ever done, she was even closer to falling apart.

Lyeiess was looking at her closely, still waiting for any kind of sign from her that he could continue, but she didn’t, she couldn’t give one to him. His brow knit, he moved as if to pull back—and with panic in her eyes and a startled groan, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Their gazes intertwined: her good eye was underlined with tears but glistened with determination, and even the empty space beside seemed certain of her decision. The prince smiled at his imagination serving him with an image of the eyesocket with a face of a five-year-old pretending to be adult—so he quickly transformed his expression into one of comfort and sympathy, praying she wouldn’t figure out his patronising thoughts. Mostly because a slap of her hand could be quite painful indeed.

“Raila?” he tried again. “Does it hurt?”

“A bit,” she replied indignantly but he could tell the anger was directed at her untrained body rather than him. “Actually, nearly not at all pretty much not.”

He failed to stop himself in time and burst out laughing, and got smacked in the arm just as he expected. She even tore a grunt out of his mouth when she hit bone to muscle and his elbow gave in under his weight—but no complaints were made as his face landed in her bosom.

“Ouch,” he groaned with no conviction, bantering mostly with her firm nipple.

“You have only yourself to blame.” There was an undercurrent of amusement in her voice, and when Lyeiess looked up at her smiling face, so wonderfully reflecting what he felt himself, he just had to kiss her. The startled noise she made quickly gave way to a sweet, content sigh, and when he finally slipped his tongue inside, his eyes fluttered close, his entire self giving in, mindlessly, to her taste. If he were made of sugar, she would be melting his face off right about now, and that would probably have been one of the last still-existing parts of his body.

He pulled her in closer, pressing himself to her bare chest. He could feel her hot breaths on his cheek when he began gently moving again, pulling back further and returning quicker with each thrust. Next thing he knew, his fingers were intertwined with hers, tongue exploring her mouth greedily, and a tightening feeling in his loins from the effort as he didn’t make love to her anymore, he fucked her—rhythmically, hungrily, primally. Raila writhed beneath him, moaned, screamed, scratched his shoulders like a cat. Her face was so close his eyes couldn’t focus on it. Everything was enveloped in a fog; it thickened beneath his eyelids until all of his world shrunk only to her delightful moans growing louder and assaulting the darkest ends of his consciousness with passion and precision. The only thing he felt now was how his mind went blank: his senses shut down one after another, giving in to the wave of pleasure waiting just beyond, waiting for him to surrender, let himself be drowned in the overabundance of sensations, the abstract feeling of the earth giving way beneath him and being suspended in the overwhelming aether.

“Lyeiess, Lyeiess, Lyeiess!” reached him through all that confusion and chaos, and his name sounded so beautiful between her lips spread wide in pleasure that something broke inside of him, as if a dam had collapsed; the wave grew and fell upon him, pushing him into Raila, tightening his fingers so hard he was sure he would break her hands, all while she cried his name out louder and louder, and _more_ , until there were no syllables, no letters, only a long ecstatic scream as the same wave overtook her, too.

And then it all settled down. Lyeiess, devoid of strength, let himself rest his forehead on her hot shoulder; he could feel her chest rising and falling to the rhythm of the tides that still pulsated somewhere in his temples. His muscles trembled, taut like strings. He gave in to that overpowering feeling of fulfilment—he couldn’t fight it, not that there was any reason to. He just waited patiently for it to pass so he could move again, and in the meantime, revelled in her closeness and her scent, and that salty-sour taste still lingering on his lips.

Finally, though, he did slide off of her and then the bed, albeit with some effort. Dawn was breaking outside; a pained groan escaped Lyeiess’s lips when he realised he hadn’t gotten so much as a wink of sleep all night. He could already imagine his future self’s dismay at the audiences later today, the regrets he would have, but one glance at Raila, lying in the dishevelled bedding, her legs still not quite closed and half her face covered in tears of pleasure… and suddenly Lyiess couldn’t remember what he was supposed to regret.

Raila gazed up at him as he fastened his breeches and threw on his shirt. Their eyes met, the woman smiled wide, though her chest was still heaving with uncontrollable breaths. He chuckled proudly and tasted her sweet lips one last time before their parting. He was just about to pull back when she leant in, deepening the kiss and letting him pull her up. Her lips moved against his ceaselessly, as if she wouldn’t or couldn’t stop tasting him as much as he craved to taste her, and Lyeiess didn’t even try to stifle a shameless grin.

She walked him to the door, suspectedly only to pick her night gown up from where it had landed in the heat of the stripping. He was already outside in the hall when his eye caught on her herbs, or more particularly, the ropes Raila used to hang them out to dry. He cocked his head with a devilish wink.

“Maybe next time, I shall tie you up? Or you me,” he teased, a playful smile on his lips.

But the corners of hers remained painfully still. Her voice was thoroughly grim, emotionless even, when she pierced his chest with an empty gaze and said, “There will be no next time.” She closed the door in his face and only through the cracks in the wood could he hear her muffled whisper, “…my prince.”

_Five minutes later near Lyeiess’s chambers…_

_“Oh, Y’Lordship ain’t asleep anymore?”_

_“No, Y’Lordship ain’t asleep YET. Y’Lordship ain’t going to be getting out of bed for four bloody days now.”_

_“Eh, ain’t gon’ be Y’Lordship’s first time, that it ain’t…”_


End file.
